Aimless
by Meishuu
Summary: [Translation] Life in Vault 101 wasn't perfect, but it was everything she knew. Alice never wanted to leave her home. Unfortunately, her father was a deeply irrational man, how else could she explain his decision of leaving the Vault and ruining her life? Now, the young woman will need to find a way to survive on her own... after all, James is dead to her.
1. Prologue

**Standard Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from Fallout 3; they are the propriety of Bethesda Game Studios. I only own some original characters, and perhaps my version of the Lone Wanderer. This story has been created merely for entertainment proposes.

This story is written in British English; therefore, some spellings may look different.

* * *

**Prologue**

**The Thomas Jefferson Memorial, September**** of 2258**

"_It breaks my heart when I think about leaving this place behind, to abandon this project… but I'm a father now, now I must put the needs of my child before my own."_

James turned off the recorder and withdrew holotape; he placed it on the bed. Putting a hand to his head, he started to massage his right temple. The grey walls of the small room felt much colder than usual. With its spacious basement and its connection to the Tidal Basin, the Jefferson Monument was a perfect location for the purifier; nevertheless, it just wasn't an appropriate place to raise a baby.

It had only been a couple of months after Catherine's death; the scientific project, in which both had been working on for more than ten years, was in a stand-by; to make matters worse, the Brotherhood of Steel was considering withdrawing its troops and the much needed protection they provided to the team of scientists. James knew that, without the support of the Brotherhood, the project would collapse quickly.

Despite his reluctance, his has made his decision. There was no turning back.

"James, are you in here?" asked a woman, whilst peeking her head through the doorway. James looked up and saw Dr. Madison Li, his colleague and friend.

Although she received no answer, Madison entered the room with a firm step. James didn't dare to look her in the face.

"James."

"What do you need, Madison?"

The small woman cleared her throat and adjusted her thick glasses.

"James, how can you do this to us? I though… we all though…"

"I'm sorry, Madison. I really am but, what else can I do?"

"How can you be so selfish?"

"Selfish?" he asked, lifting his head and staring at her coldly; nevertheless, the small woman seemed to be unfazed: she just crossed her arms above her chest and glared at him.

"Yes, you're being selfish. Don't you realize what will happen if you leave? The Brotherhood has made it very clear: they aren't willing to work with me, or with any other scientists."

"This is about my child, Madison, my only child. The only thing I have left… the only…"

James's voice broke. He just couldn't deal with this, not right now.

"I understand, James, but I need you to try and understand me. This project could mean the chan-"

"You obviously _don't_ understand," James interrupted, harshly. He got up from the bed and straightened himself to his whole height, whilst given Madison Li the sternest look he could find.

"Why? Because I'm not a 'mother'?" As soon as these words left her mouth, the doctor shifted her eyes to the ground. "James, please think about what you're going to do. Will you really risk the future of the entire Wasteland?"

James's eyes widened in surprise, feeling incapable of believe what he was hearing. How could she dare to suggest putting the inhabitants of the Wasteland before his daughter?

The room went dead silent.

"Please, at least think about the consequences of your actions," Madison murmured. She walked cautiously towards him, and placed a hand in his arm, a gesture that he didn't mind in the slightest. "That's all I ask, for the sake of us all."

With those supplicant words, Madison Li left the room.

James didn't dare to follow her; even though he knew he'll never see her again. There wasn't anything more to say, and nothing left to argue. He wouldn't let anything or anyone change his mind.

He rummaged through the pockets of his lab coat to find an old pack of cigarettes; he took one and placed it between his and forefinger, trying to decide whether to smoke it or not; after all, when Catherine found out she was pregnant, he promised her to quit smoking and drinking. He didn't want to break that promise.

He recalled, with great sadness, all the plans that he and Catherine had made for their baby's arrival. All their hopes and all their dreams, escaped him as sand between his fingers

Now, little Alice was asleep in her improvised crib, without producing the slightest noise, oblivious to the cruel reality of the world. He had lost his wife and, in return, gained a daughter. How was that any better? Without Catherine, without his Catherine, James wondered if live was worth living.

The baby's feeble cry brought him back to reality.

For goodness sake! How could he even think that way? His daughter needed him. He couldn't just abandon her —Catherine would never forgive him.

Beyond Jefferson Memorial, past the shabby settlement of Megaton, resided their only hope of a better life: The Vault 101.

James would do anything so her daughter wouldn't grow up in this desolate world.


	2. An Unhappy Birthday

**Chapter 1: An Unhappy Birthday**

**July 2268**

_War. War never changes._

_After decades of global privatization, and strong international competition, the so-called "Resource War" began in 2052. The major conflicts were fought between the great powers looking to control the scarce global oil supplies. The United Nations and the European Common Wealth collapsed. China invaded Alaska, and the United States annexed Canada._

_To protect its citizens, our great government…_

"Bo-ring," said the brown-haired boy, leaning his chin against the desk. He tore a page from his notebook and crumpled it with his hands.

"Butch!" Amata shrieked as she felt a small spitball hit the back of her head.

The boy laughed out loud but Mr. Brotch, apparently bored out of his mind by Vault-Tec's projection, didn't even notice —or chose not to. Amata crossed her arms and refocused her eyes on the slides.

Alice slumped in her seat. She was uncomfortable watching her best friend having to deal by herself with Butch DeLoria but, at the same time, she was feeling more convinced of her decision to sit two desks behind that bully.

It wasn't the first time that the boy bullied her or Amata; during the last three years, DeLoria had taken a special interest in making their lives miserable: he pestered them in the halls, called them horrible nicknames, stuck chewing gum on their hair, and basically took every opportunity to make them uncomfortable, one way or another.

In a way, Amata was lucky one of the two, having to deal with the ridicule and jokes from Butch and his cronies; even though the girl didn't had many friends, she did get along with the other children of the vault. Unfortunately, Alice wasn't as 'popular': her peers seemed to be intimidated by her; sure, they didn't bully her as Butch did, but they also didn't get anywhere near her or spoke to her. If wasn't as she even tried to please them; since the beginning of the school year, she had decided that it wasn't worth wasting her time with the other children.

With the day's lectures finished, every kind was eager to leave the classroom. Alice waited patiently for Amata to finish picking up her school supplies.

Amata was the Overseer's daughter, the man in charge of the Vault, one whose word was law. Alice knew the girl since the two of them wore nappies, being her father who, so to speak, had introduced them and incited them to be friends.

She was her best and only friend. Alice didn't need anyone else.

"Hey! How about if we study together?" asked Amata, while finishing to place her books inside her Vault-Tec backpack.

"All right," Alice answered dejectedly, although showing a smile on her face.

"Then let's go to your house!" The other girl exclaimed happily, as she clutched her friend's arm.

To call 'house' the small vault's apartments was stretching the concept, especially when compared to those huge homes that existed before 'The Great War'.

According to the overseer, the war devastated the world, and the only habitable place in what used to be the United States —and perhaps the whole world— was the Vault 101.

Those were the facts, and all Vaults' inhabitants accepted them.

The girls hadn't taken more than two steps outside the classroom when they heard a mocking voice calling at them:

"Look! It's the fatso and the pipsqueak!"

"But, which is which, Butch? I say both of them are sacks of lard."

Butch DeLoria and Wally Mack's blatant laughter filled the corridors. Alice felt her friend's hand squeeze her arm with excessive force.

"It's best to ignore them," Alice said, without inflection in her voice.

"Leave us alone!" Amata screamed, turning on her heels to face Butch. Reluctantly, Alice did the same.

"Or what? Are you going to tell your daddy? 'Look at me, I'm Amata the fatso, I will go and cry to my daddy, boo hoo."

"Shut up, Butch!" Amata's eyes began to fill with tears. The girl wasn't fat, and couldn't even be considered robust, but her weight had always been a sensitive subject for her. The bullies of Vault 101 knew very well what her Achilles heel was.

Alice stepped between Butch and Amata; she was ten years old, much taller than him, and heavier.

"Go away, Butch."

Butch just twisted his mouth and said:

"You don't scare me, freak. What you gonna do? Crush me with your big fat ass?"

Wally laughed again. He approached Butch and began to grunt like a pig.

**"**Hey! What are you kids doing?"

The four children, startled and afraid, turned their heads to look for the stern and authoritative voice.

"It's officer Gomez. Let's go before he gets over here," Wally said, holding Butch by the sleeve of this jumpsuit.

"Bah! I'm not scared."

"Neither I am! But I don't want to hear my old man scolding me again," Wally cried, almost shrilly.

"All right, all right, but we aren't done here, pipsqueak."

When Butch turned around to follow Wally, Alice took the opportunity to take him by surprise. She had been saving her chewing gum during the entire lecture, just for this moment. Using all of her weight, she grabbed him by the hair and pushed him down.

"What- You stupid pipsqueak!" Butch screamed, as he got up on his feet.

"An eye for an eye, Butch," the girl said curtly, and stuck out her tongue.

* * *

"I hate him," Alice said, as she finished sharpening one of her pencils.

Like almost every afternoon, after the end of the school day, Alice and Amata were at Dr. Whitaker's apartment, placidly accommodated around the coffee table that adorned the narrow living room.

"I know," Amata smiled, "I hope he has to cut all of his hair! Can you imagine him bald?"

Alice tried to fight the urge to laugh out loud. She couldn't help but, unconsciously, raise a hand to touch her short brown hair. She used to wear it long and in a braid, however, two months ago, Butch had stuck a ball of chewing gum on her head, making sure to get it on her scalp. Alice threw a tantrum, devastated by the loss of her long straight hair; for a ten year old girl, an event like this was simply a tragedy.

"Yes, he deserves it," Alice muttered, "He's such a moron, a useless good for nothing idiot."

"Well, I… I almost feel sorry for him. His father died a couple of years ago, remember?" Amata said, squirming nervously on her seat, "That's just sad."

Alice frowned. Her mother was dead, and so was Amata's; even though Amata had the opportunity of meeting her mother, she was just too small to remember her. The fact that Butch didn't have a father was no excuse for his behavior. Even Alice's father had said as much.

She couldn't feel sorry for him, much less sympathy.

The memories of Phillip DeLoria's funeral were somewhat blurry for Alice: It was one of those rare days when the Overseer allowed the use of clothing different to the usual blue vault jumpsuits. Amid shouts and protests, his father managed to her get to wear a black dress that reached below her knees. Alice had hated that dress; sure, it was a comfortable, much more comfortable that the vault jumpsuits but, when she wore it, she just didn't feel like herself.

The girl spent most the funeral sitting on a small wooden chair, as far away as she could from the coffin; her father gave his condolences, and spent the next few minutes chatting with Ellen DeLoria. Alice couldn't hear their conversation but, frankly, she couldn't care less about it; death wasn't a concept she usually included in her daily life, even though her father was the Vault's head physician.

She thought about her mother; she thought about those blurred photographs that her father kept locked away and rarely allowed her to look. It was in that moment when she saw him: standing in the far corner of the room, with his hands in his pockets, and with a bowed head, was Butch DeLoria.

Alice felt a pang of sympathy.

She walked up to him and, with a sweetish voice, said:

"H-hi Butch, how are you?" The girl put her arms behind her back and stared at the floor, "I-I'm sorry about your dad. You know what? My daddy says he is now with God," She looked up and gave him her biggest smile, "Don't be sad."

"Go away, pipsqueak," the boy answered, unkindly.

Alice wasn't going to let herself be intimidated by him. After all, the poor boy had just lost his father, so he had a good reason to act in such a rude manner.

"Butch, do you wanna come to my birthday party? It will be the ne-,"

Before she could finish her sentence, she felt as two hands fastened around her shoulders and shoved her. She fell heavily on the ground; her beautiful black dress was torn at the hemline.

"I told you to go away, fatso! Leave me alone!"

"I… I just…"

Her eyes filled with tears, and the girl struggled to hold them back.

"Ugh, now the little baby wants to cry for her mommy. Oh, that's right; you don't have a mommy, because she didn't want you. That's why she left you!"

Unable to take stand it any longer, the little girl burst into tears. Butch covered his ears, and ran away from the pitiful scene. Moving with the speed of a distraught father, Dr. Whitaker approached his daughter, who was sprawled on the floor.

"Honey, what happened?" he asked her in a soft tone, helping her stand up.

"I hate him. I hate him!" She said between sobs.

Alice promised herself that, from that moment on, she would never let anyone see her cry.

"I can't believe you still got that!"

Alice blinked rapidly.

"What?" The girl turned her head and stared at what Amata was pointing at with her index finger. "Oh, well, I think it's very interesting. Did you know that, before the war, radroaches were called 'cockroaches', they also generally just reached the size of a thumb. Can you imagine? What kind of mutations they suffered to end like this?"

Amata bit her lower lip. It was obvious that she didn't share the interest her friend had in that radroach preserved in formalin.

"This is why they say you're weird," Amata murmured, and Alice pretended not to hear her.

They continued quietly with their homework, until Amata asked:

"So, what would you like for your birthday?"

"Oh, I really don't know. How about a date with Freddie Gomez?"

Amata face was completely deformed with a grimace. Meanwhile, Alice just stared at her, not uttering a single word.

"Freddie 'The Freak' Gomez? Are you serious? He's going to give you cooties!"

"Amata… that was a joke," The girl smiled, holding her hands to the side of her hip.

"Good to know, because if it wasn't, our friendship will be over."

* * *

This was, without a doubt, the worst day of her life.

It all started this morning when she realised that neither her father nor Amata o Jones seemed to remember her birthday. She stayed at home most of the day, feeling too disappointed to get out of bed. When evening came, Amata stormed in her room, showing a big smile on her face and wearing a silly party hat.

Apparently, all of her friends conspired to make her a surprise party. For some reason, that she couldn't began to fathom, her father considered a good idea to invite Butch DeLoria, Wally Mack and Paul Hannon to the party.

The Pip-boy was the best gift of the day —it was a 3000A model, but it was still an amazing piece of technology, one which Alice was sure she could experiment—nevertheless, the Grognak comic gifted by Amata, and the baseball cap from Stanley, were also a pleasant surprise. Certainly, the party could be considered a success, despite the incident with the birthday cake.

As always, the idiot of Butch DeLoria had to ruin everything.

The girl was in her father's office, hunched over on one of the metal chairs, and bleeding profusely from her small upturned nose.

_Stupid Butch, piece of…_

I was, in part, the fault of the Mr. Handy, Andy: If the robot hadn't destroyed her birthday cake, perhaps Butch hadn't tried to snatch from her the sweet roll that Mrs. Palmer gave her. On the other hand, poor Andy didn't have true artificial intelligence, so she couldn't really blame him for his faulty programming.

Of course, DeLoria's behaviour was still out of place.

Everyone in the vault knew that Butch's mother spent their ration coupons on vodka o beer, so the child often went hungry; feeling generous, Alice offered to share half her sweetroll with him; however, all she received in exchange were taunts and insults. Determined to give the bully his due, she spat on the sweetroll, tossed it to his face, and said: 'Maybe you're so hungry because your mother drank all of the ration coupons instead of feed you'.

Her little joke gained her a punch to the nose, courtesy of Butch. Within the blink of an eye, the boy was on top of her, using all of his weight to keep her on the ground. Alice stretched her arms and tried to get him off her, but Butch anger had reached unimaginable limits: he encircled the girl's neck with both hands, squeezed it hard and didn't let her go even when she fought to scratch his face.

"Don't you dare say those things about my mom! Stupid nosebleed!"

When Alice thought that all was lost, Officer Gomez came to her rescue. He grabbed Bitch by the collar of this jumpsuit and, with extreme ease, forced him to let go of the girl's neck.

"What are you doing? How dare you to hit a girl!"

"That nosebleed isn't a girl! She's just a freak! Didn't you hear what she said about my mom?"

"Silence, Butch. Don't expect me to believe a single word of what you say. Either you behave or I'll call your mother."

Officer Gomez's threats seemed to calm Butch; defeated, he returned to his seat next to Wally and Paul, muttering under his breath.

"Are you all right, honey? He didn't hurt, did he?"

Alice covered her nose with both hands and watched in horror as the blood started to stain her fingers. Her father, without thinking it twice, took her by the shoulders and led her to his office, before the astonished gaze and murmurs of the other vault's residents.

_I hate him. I hate stupid Butch DeLoria_, Alice though, as she waited for her father to return with the first aid kit.

"Let me take a look," James put the gauze and antiseptic on the desktop, he knelt in front of his daughter and, with the help of a damp cotton cloth, began to clean the dried blood that had gathered around her nostrils, "You're very lucky, your nose isn't broken, although is likely going to swell. What were you thinking, dear?

"He started it. He tried to take my sweetroll."

"Yes, I saw that, and I also saw when you spat on his face and threw the sweetroll at him."

Alice shrugged; his father was certainly much observant than she though.

"What was I supposed to do, let him take away my stuff?"

"No, of course not, but answering violence with violence is_ not_ the solution. You could just tell him, assertively, that the sweetroll was yours."

"Right, Dad, because everyone knows that Butch DeLoria always listens to what I have to say," Alice said, then snorted in disgust.

"Even so, what you did wasn't right."

"So, I should let those… those bullies do as they please? You told me that I had to learn to defend myself, don't you remember?"

James ran a trembling hand through his hair.

"Violence isn't always the answer, my dear." Before she could protest again, James raised his hand and added: "What I mean is that, there is nothing wrong with defending yourself when someone is attacking you, but you should try to use violence only as a last resort."

"If you say so," Alice said, gritting her teeth.

Perhaps her father wasn't as brave as she thought.

"Alice, I _am_ proud of you, I'm happy that you're learning to stand up for yourself, but you need to be careful. You need to learn how to pick your battles."

"Y-yes, Dad."

James finished cleaning the dried blood from his daughter's face; then, he placed over the wound a piece of ice wrapped in cloth, telling her daughter to press it hard on her nose.

Father and daughter looked up when they heard the sound of the automatic door.

"Hello! They told there was a problem at the party. Did Butch and Alice fight again? What happened?" Jonas entered the office almost running and, seeing both the handkerchiefs and the floor stained with blood drops, added: "Dear Lord! It's worse than I thought."

"Don't worry, Jonas, it's only a slight facial trauma, there isn't a nasal fracture."

"You got lucky, huh, kiddo?" Jonas said, patting Alice on the head, "I hope you gave Butch what he deserves."

"Jonas, don't encourage her."

"Come on, Doc! That bully had it coming."

"I know, right?" asked Alice, smiling. Jonas could be her father's assistant, but he wasn't as serious or as severe as him. At this point, the young assistant had become a part of the family, "Mmm, but I didn't get to him hit, because Officer Gomez separated us."

"All right you two, that's enough," interrupted James. "Jonas, is the surprise ready?"

"Surprise?" Alice questioned, trying not to show any emotion in her face or in her voice, "What surprise?"

"Oh, you'll see it soon, little one," Jonas smiled. "Everything is ready, Doc."

"But… what it is?"

"It's something very special that your Dad and I have been working on; after all, you don't turn ten every day, don't you think so?"

"I don't like surprises."

James and Jonas gave each other an incredulous look.

"Since when?" James questioned, "Anyways, looks like your nose stopped bleeding. Come on, follow me."

The girl walked behind her father and Jonas, trying to match their step.

"How does that Pip-boy fits, kiddo?"

"Well, it feels a little heavy, and weird, but I think I'll get used to it. It's true that you can never remove a Pip-boy?"

Jonas shook his head.

"Not at all, that's just an urban legend. Of course, you need to take special care to remove it, and this usually done by a specialist, or you run the risk of the Pip-boy shutting down as a security measure, but their removal isn't impossible. Can you imagine if they couldn't be removed at all? How would you clean them or give them maintenance?"

They continue to chat as they walked through the corridors, towards the reactor level. At fists, Alice was reluctant to go down the stairs, until her father assured her the Overseer hadn't installed security camera in the room adjacent to the reactor, since this room only worked as a warehouse.

"This is why it's the perfect place. Wait here a moment, please," James said before disappearing behind the door.

When he came back, he brought with him what appeared to be a rifle with a stock and a recoil pad made of laminated wood; the barrel was worn, although it didn't show signs of rust. Alice had seen the weapon before, whilst rummaging through her father's possessions.

What was her dad doing with a weapon? What use could he have for one?

"Do you like it? This is the surprise I was talking about. Your own BB gun! It may be an air gun of compressed gas, but that doesn't make it a toy, do you understand?"

Alice nodded.

"Thanks, Dad," she said, taking the rifle from her father's hand and examining it closely.

"You're welcome, honey. Be sure to thank Jonas, he helped me fix it."

"Thank you, Jonas."

"Well, Butch also contributed." Hearing Jonas assertion, Alice eyes widened. "Yes, luckily for us, he 'misplaced' his switchblade. It's very difficult to find a spring small enough to fit the BB gun charger." Jonas said, laughing.

"Now, let's show you the _other_ surprise." James led his daughter up to the warehouse. Upon arrival, Alice had to squint a few times to get used to the change in illumination; this room was much darker than the reactor one, and musty.

"What's this?" Alice asked, pointing at the contraption which consisted of three round shooting targets, connected to long metal tubes.

"An improvised shooting range, Jonas and I build it for you. You can come to practice here anytime you want."

"So, I can actually use the BB gun? Can I shoot it?"

"Yes, as long as you do it down here. This will be our little secret, okay?" James took her daughter by the shoulders. "Listen, it's important for you to learn this, I will _not_ always be able to protect you."

Alice didn't understand what her father was talking about, or why his face was suddenly turning sad. Maybe he was suffering from what some adults called the 'midlife crisis' or, he was simply being cautious. Whatever the reason, the BB gun was something new, something unknown to her, and she loved learning about new things.

James showed her how to load bullets into the gun, the stance she should take to shoot, and the safety rules she should follow when handling any type of firearm.

The first shot, as expected, didn't hit the target; instead, impacted against the thick piece of wood that hung behind the target.

"Oh, what's that for, Dad?"

"A barrier to stop the pellets, it's just a precaution. You need to always be aware of the existence of a barrier when you shoot, or you could end up hurting someone."

"But… this are just pellets, plus, you said no one comes down here."

"Pellets can still be dangerous; as I said before, the BB gun is _not_ a toy. Now, come one, try it again."

The next three shots didn't hit the target either, although they came much closer than before.

"It's all about posture, honey." James approached his daughter and accommodated the rifle butt over her right shoulder. "Now, breathe deeply, hold your weapons tightly, and try aligning the sights."

After ten more attempts, Alice finally managed to hit the target's periphery.

"Well done!" Jonas cheered.

"But… I didn't hit the bull's-eye," the girl said crestfallen.

"It's okay, dear; it's just a matter of practice. I bet you'll soon become a sharpshooter." James gave his daughter another box of ammunition, and told her to keep firing at the target.

"So, do you like your gift, kiddo?" asked Jonas with a smile on his lips.

"Yes! Thank you! I love it!" The excitement coming from her voice made both scientists' eyebrows rise up. Alice wasn't prone to express herself in such a clamorous way, but this gift had awakened something inside her: when she fired the first shot, a warm sensation ran through her body, a feeling that she wanted to experience again.

Once the ammunition for the BB gun ran out, James asked Jonas to "photograph the moment", as father and daughter posed in front of the shooting range. Ignoring her father's protests, Alice put on the red baseball cap that Stanley had given to her.

"Okay, let's see a smile! Say cheese!"

Maybe this wasn't the worst birthday ever.


	3. The Worst Years of Your Life

**Chapter 2: The Worst Years of your Life**

By the time Amata and Alice turned fourteen, life in the Vault became tumultuous. The change began three years before, when most of the vault's youths entered that dreaded life stage known as "puberty".

Alice's relationship with her peers hadn't improved, but rather the opposite. She'd made a last attempt to get close to her peers, which of course had failed. Butch and his friends were still mocking her, now focusing on her looks: at fourteen, she was nearly six feet tall and, having been a chubby girl, she now weighed more than she should.

Unfortunately for Alice, she not only had to deal with puberty and adolescence, but also with terrible migraines that compelled her to curl up in bed for days. The prodrome and aura acted as warning signs: continuous yawns, fatigue, scintillating scotoma, and depression followed by euphoria; when Alice began to notice them, she preferred to stay at home, even if that meant losing school days and baseball practice.

That particular morning, Alice was curled up on top of her bed; the room remained in darkness, nonetheless, she'd covered her face with thick blankets. If not for the insistent knocking at the front door, she'd had slept the rest of the afternoon.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Alice muttered to herself, hastily putting on her vault jumpsuit. She walked slowly towards the door, while trying to clean the coffee stains and cupcake crumps that soiled her clothes.

She opened the door and, after an abrupt greeting, indicated the visitor to enter the apartment.

"Are you okay?" Amata asked at she entered the apartment, with apparent consternation in her voice. Alice pressed a hand against her right temple and nodded weakly. "Migraines again, or cramps?"

"I wish they were just cramps, in that case I could treat them with an analgesic. Migraines can't be treated so easily."

"Right. I bet that if you didn't stay awake all night, you wouldn't have so many migraines."

"Amata, you should know that, although migraine and insomnia have a common link, one _does not_ cause the other. Not necessarily."

"Please, don't start with that, I got enough sermons at Mr. Brotch's lectures," Amata murmured, rolling her eyes. "By the way, I brought your homework." The young woman handed her friend and old yellow notebook.

The two girls conversed pleasantly, while enjoying a delicious orange juice —Alice insisted on preparing coffer, but the stern look on Amata's face convinced her otherwise. Although the Vault had a hydroponic garden, from which the inhabitants obtained fresh fruit and vegetables, something as trivial as drinking fruit juice had become a luxury.

"So… Freddie's been asking about you, in a very, very insistent way," Amata said, with a hint of slyness in her voice. "Is there something you want to tell me? Hmm?"

"No, of course not."

"Alice, don't lie to me. I can tell when you're lying."

"That's not true. I'm very good at keeping a 'neutral' expression."

"That's what you think; however, I've to admit that your 'neutral' face it's… a bit creepy. Do you stand in front of a mirror every day to practice?"

"No," answered Alice, chuckling. "It's something natural, I swear."

"So… you and Freddie? Why? How? When?"

"One question at a time, please. It was only a kiss and, to be honest, not a very good one," the girl shrugged.

"It's just… well, he's not very attractive."

"Maybe, but he seem like a nice guy, plus, he's among the few that don't make fun of my… appearance."

_Or at least he does it behind my back_, Alice thought cynically.

Amata shifted nervously in her seat, she then took a sip from her juice.

Leaving aside her stature, her physical appearance was average: she had a heart shaped face, but her features weren't particularly soft or feminine, neither masculine; she liked to look presentable, like most people do, but she never spent more time than necessary to her appearance.

"But, are you still helping him with math homework? I mean, it might be that…"

"And then you say I'm the cynical one," Alice muttered, "or maybe all those romantic movies are rotting your brain."

"You're the grumpy and cynical one, I'm the realist," mocked Amata, raising her hands in the air. "Seriously, I just… well, as my father always says, 'You need to be careful around boys'."

"Amata, I'm not in love with him, and I definitively won't marry him; not if I can help it."

"I know what you mean, I mean, I'm not ready to get married either, but it's something we all have to do. It's our civic duty," asserted Amata, even though she wasn't convinced of her own words. "Isn't it better that we choose our boyfriend?"

"Yes, I suppose it is," Alice scratched her chin, "but there isn't much to choose from."

"No, there isn't," Amata shook her head.

Every culture has its own propaganda that serves to promote stability, and Vault 101 was no different.

The propaganda authorized by the Overseer involved pamphlets addressing topics as diverse as "What to do if you aren't married by the age of Twenty one", "Coping with Mr. Virus", and "The Vault Dweller's Survival Guide".

All vault residents knew that the Overseer maintained a strict control over the birth rate. Of course, "procreating" was encouraged, but it should occur within a certain period of time. If a couple wanted children, the had to first consult it with the Overseer; if a couple wished to marry, they too should consult it with the Overseer; if you weren't married at twenty one and didn't have a partner, the Overseer could choose for you.

Just thinking about it, made the hairs on the back of Alice's neck stood.

"My father says it's time to start deciding with whom I want to 'start a family'," said Amata, crestfallen. "It's… It's so frustrating, so dumb, and so unfair. Who did he expects me to marry? Bucth DeLoria? Wally Mack?"

Alice grimaced. Of all the available guys at the Vault, those two were the only ones who, literally, made her nauseous.

However, she could definitely see herself married to someone like Freddie Gomez, even if she if didn't found the concept of "marriage" appealing, and had the slightest interest in having children —she was too young to even think about that.

It was true that the boy was pretty close to her romantic ideal, but that didn't stop it from being just that, a ridiculous fantasy; although, perhaps there was nothing wrong with dreaming, as long as you were prepared to put your feet back on the ground. Wasn't that what her father always said?

"What about Thomas Wolsey?" Alice asked, placing her glass on the coffee table.

"Thomas? But he's just… so _boring_, and a stuck up."

"Amata, what happened with the whole 'Do not judge or you will be judged'?" Alice asked, gesturing in an exaggerated, mocking way. "You know what they say: 'Only the overseer has the power to judge others."

"I'm not judging him, I just think he's boring," Amata replied, wrinkling her nose. "Smart and very responsible, but he's not someone with whom I would like to share the rest of my life."

"Smart and responsible? How terrible!" Putting a chubby finger to her lips, Alice let out a sigh. "I´ve to admit that he's very cute, I would even call him 'sexy'."

"Ha! I won't deny that. Maybe 'procreating' with him wouldn't be so bad. I-In four or five years, of courses, not yet," Amata added quickly, blushing to the top of her ears.

Alice raised both eyebrows and then nudged her friend in the ribs.

* * *

As the years passed, the desire to improve things in the Refuge formed within Alice's mind, but also in Amata's. For Alice, the Vault's government began to resemble a totalitarian regimen; maybe she was exaggerating, but it wasn't difficult to notice that certain policies of the Overseer were not far from those found in the anti-utopian novels that Mr. Brotch made them read in English class.

The day in which they'll take the "Generalized Occupational Aptitude Test", better known as GOAT, approached. This test would decide the job you would perform for the rest of your life, whether you like it or not. According to Mr. Brotch "It was impossible to fail the GOAT" but a low score could assign you to dishonorable profession of "Garbage Burner".

Determined to get the best possible score, Amata and Alice took from the library as many books as they could carry with them, and holed up in the apartment of the latter.

"All right, next question," Amata said, changing the page of her book. "On what date did The Great War start?"

"Amata," interrupted Alice, "are you sure this is going to be in the GOAT?"

"I don't really know. They just told us to study what we saw the last two semesters, remember?"

"I think I'm getting another migraine," Alice said, holding her head with both hands.

"What a coincidence."

"I'm serious, Amata. I'm beginning to feel light-headed."

Seeing the anguish in the face of her friend, Amata asked, "Oh, I'm sorry. Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"It'll pass," the girl replied, wiping the sweat from her forehead. "Let's continue studying."

"If you say so, but if you keep feeling unwell let me know, okay?"

After nearly two hours quizzing each other, and because Alice's symptoms seemed to worsen, they decided to take a short break.

"How about a Nuka-Cola?" asked Amata. "I've heard sugar is good to keep you awake."

"I hate Nuka-Cola; it's too sweet for my tastes. I rather have a beer," Alice said in a mocking tone, and then stuck out her tongue.

"Alice! We're too young to be drinking beer!"

"So?" Alice asked. As usual, Amata gave her the sterner look she could find. "Okay, no beer until we're eighteen."

"Twenty one," Amata snapped. "I swear, sometimes I think you just say these things to make me angry."

"It's just _so funny_ to see you angry," Alice cocked her head slightly. "Okay, I'll drink some of that nasty stuff, at least it has caffeine."

Alice had to admit that it was very hard to say no to her friend. Despite being a considerably patient persona, Amada had a reputation of "bossy"; furthermore, in the last months, she'd become much more serious, perhaps because her father had begun training her to be the next overseer. Amata constantly complained of her father's philosophy but, no matter how much she hated him sometimes, she didn't seem ready to go against him.

The girls chatted and cracked jokes, completely forgetting the GOAT. In the past week, they really hadn't had a chance to relax.

"Amata, doesn't it depresses you think we're never going to leave this place? We'll never meet other people; we'll never see things like the sky or the stars…"

Alice had wondered, on several occasions, how it would feel to live in a house like the ones that appeared in the old Vault-Tec projections: with its spacious rooms; with bathrooms that you didn't have to share with anyone outside of your family; with green and lush gardens where you could walk barefoot, feeling the soft grass beneath your feet.

Amata sighed; at her sixteen years old, she seemed to have forgotten about all of that childish nonsense. The girl truly believed that thinking about such things wasn't practical at all; Alice agreed of the futility of such fantasies but, much to her dismay, she couldn't help but speculate about what really existed behind the cold metal walls of the vault.

"Since when are you so poetic?"

Alice shrugged. She didn't feel poetic.

"It's just scientific curiosity."

"There's a name for all of what you're feeling, you know?"

"Yes. It's called 'Vault Depression Syndrome', or VDS. But it's not about that; as I said before, it's just curiosity."

Amata rolled her eyes.

"What I mean is, maybe you should talk to your father about your feelings…" Amada said, squinting. "I've heard that Freedie has VDS, he's been taking medication for a while. They say there're days when he can barely get out of bed."

"Yes. I know."

Alice scratched nervously the back of her head. Her "relationship" with Freddie was over before it even could begin. The boy had several emotional problems, and even if Alice was fond of him, she simply wasn't prepared to deal with them or comfort him when he needed it; Freedie himself had made that statement during one of their many arguments.

Alice shook her head slightly, trying to keep those memories at bay. The breaking had hurt, but it was useless to think about it.

"Do you really want to leave the Vault?" Amata asked seriously.

"Leave the Vault? No, of course not. I'm very curious, but not enough to risk my life. We don't know what is actually out there, or how dangerous it is."

"Yeah, exactly," she nodded effusively. "To be honest, I'm curious about what's out there, but if what those survive pamphlets say is true..."

"We can always prepare ourselves, Amata. We could send a scouting party and, once we have all the necessary information, open the vault doors."

"Scouts? Alice, this isn't a war movie," muttered Amata, "and you better don't let my father hear you saying that, you know how he gets."

"Don't worry. I'm not stupid enough to say it in front of him," Alice said, waving a hand dismissively. "But what will happen in a couple of generations? What'll happen when the food and medicine reserves run out? Opening the Vault could be the perfect solution."

"I don't think that's the perfect solution." A grimace of disgust appeared on Amata's face. "Gross! Can you imagine if we'd to start marrying between cousins or _siblings_? We'd all end up being part of Wally Mack's family."

"Don't say that! That's disgusting!" Alice exclaimed, truly horrified by the idea. Her friend burst out with laughter.

When night came, Alice said goodbye to Amata —Alphonse really hated her daughter to come home at such an ungodly hour—, and returned to work on the project she began almost a year ago: to remotely access the Overseer's terminal.

The installation of any type of devices on terminals, as well as networking, was strictly forbidden according the overseer's polices, but Alice wouldn't let that stop her.

Although she'd started to write the program almost a year ago, it took months to test and correct all bugs; she needed the help of some books, missed several baseball practices, and gained a lot of weight, but it was definitely worthwhile. She'd already gained access to her father's personal terminal.

Keeping the program hidden was the biggest problem.

The erratic behaviour of her father started to worry her. There were days when he didn't even came home to sleep, and when she went to look for him in his office, he was dozing on one of the lab tables, surrounded by flasks, petri dishes and test tubes.

She really wanted to know, no, she needed to know what he father was up to. What kinds of experiments he performed? Biochemical? Biological? Medical?

She understood why James didn't speak with the Overseer about the experiments, after all, the man was the walking definition of "retrograde", but did he hid it from her? Did he fear that she wouldn't understand his work? Did he fear that she couldn't keep a secret?

As she waited for one of her programs to extract the overseer's password through brute force, she decided to review the files she'd obtained from her father's terminal.

Alice's green eyes widened in surprise.

"Project Purity", the girl read aloud. The entries were arranged by date; most of them contained information relevant to the experiments being conducted by her father, others talked about more mundane subjects, and many of them mentioned something about "The Wasteland", whatever that was. If this was what Alice though it was —James's diary—, why the hell it wasn't better protected or even encrypted? Perhaps he though no one could access it?

The girl was so engrossed reading that she didn't notice the passage of time, until a noise outside the front door startled her.

"Hello, is anyone still awake? I'm home!"

Hearing her father's cheery voice, Alice turned off the monitor of her terminal, and then rose up quickly from her chair.

"Hi, dad. Did you know that it's three in the morning?"

"Yes, I know, and I'm sorry, Alice."

Alice leaned against the door frame of her room and crossed her arms. This wasn't the first time that her father didn't fulfill his promise of not getting home at such ungodly hours; at this point, she was used to it.

"Did you've dinner?"

"No, honey, but don't worry about it, I'll just eat a fruit. You, on the other hand, should go to sleep; you'll take the GOAT in two days."

"I'm fine."

"Alice," James in said, using an annoying paternal tone, the same one he'd used when the girl decided to pierce the lobes and cartilages of both of her ears, "you need to be well rested for the test. And no 'buts', young lady."

"Yes, dad."

Steeling herself and ignoring the empty feeling in her stomach, Alice followed her father into the kitchen.

"Dad, we need to talk." Seeing the confused look from her father, Alice shrugged and scratched behind her head nervously. "If you have the time, of course."

"Of course, dear, what's the matter?" James asked as he pulled a red apple from the refrigerator and cleaned it on his lab coat.

Her hands were sweaty, and she felt as if her throat was going to close at any moment, but the need for Alice to find out more her father's "illegal" activities was far stronger than her fear and anxiety.

She found herself at a disjunctive: On one hand, she could address the topic directly, but that meant admitting her foray into her father's private files, and she risked losing the little trust her father seemed to have in her; on the other hand, if she approached the topic subtly, perhaps she could learn more about, not only the so-called "Project Purity", but also about the true situation of the Vault and of the outside world.

"Dad, I've been thinking a lot about our situation."

"Our situation?"

"I'm talking about the Vault." Alice sat down on one of the stools that adorned the small kitchen, James remained standing. "I'm sure you're aware that out supplies are running low. What will happen when the population can't sustain itself either socially or genetically?" she asked. She'd been rehearsing this conversation for several days.

"Honey," James approached his daughter and squeezed her shoulder affectionately, "I understand your worries, but that's something we can't control, the overseer is who has the last word."

"I know. That's exactly the problem, dad. That man is an imbecile who doesn't seem to care about us, the citizens."

"You'd be surprised to know, Alice, that Alphonse is smarter than you realize. He's only… stubborn," he said. "And you know I don't like it when you express yourself like that."

"Sorry," the girl replied, shrinking in her seat and biting her lower lip. "But, there's nothing we can do?"

"Do you mean that if we can change his mind?" James smiled sadly. It was a quasi-mocking grin that he showed when he thought his daughter was being naïve. "No, honey, changing someone's opinion is not as simple as showing them they're wrong. There are times when the stubbornness and deep held beliefs of people impose themselves."

"What if we use a 'well-structured argument'?"

James shook his head.

"Listen, Alphonse won't always be in the overseer's chair."

"But that doesn't meant things will improve."

"Ah, but that's where you, the young generation, comes in."

"Do you really believe that?"

Her father's silence made her think that he was just saying what she wanted to hear.

"What if we open the Vault's doors? That wouldn't solve all of our problems, but a least…"

"No."

Alice blinked rapidly. The suddenness with which his father uttered that single word took her by surprise.

"Please, Alice, don't ever say that. You know very well the overseer doesn't allow us to speak about the outside world."

"Dad, we can't keep hiding down here, we won't survive. You know it, I know it, and I'm pretty sure we're not the only ones who think this way."

"Dear," James whispered, his voice hoarse but authoritative, "the outside world is _not_ a pleasant place; there's no green grasslands, or trees, or blue skies, nor drinking water, and there's no civilised society. Even if it's hard for you to believe it, those pamphlets approved by the Overseer don't lie."

"How do you know so much about the 'outside world'?" The girl narrowed her eyes as best as she could, in a futile attempt to intimidate her father.

"I just know it." James averted his eyes for a second, as if he was carefully considering his next words. "It's true that the vault isn't perfect but, I can assure you, that living here is much better than living outside. Nobody _lives _out there, not really; they just _survive_."

"And what _exactly_ is out there?"

Pulling back his shoulders and clenching his fists, James stared at his daughter.

"Life in the outside world is very different from the life we lead here at the Vault. Most of those people will _not_ think twice to trick use, to use you, to kill you just for fun..." Just by saying those words, James seemed to have aged ten years. He swallowed hard, and continued, "Out there, there're things far worse than overseer's "tyranny'."

Alice frowned thoughtfully. Despite what many may believe, the vault's youths weren't ignorant of the darker side of human nature. Neither the Supervisor with his pamphlets, nor Mr. Brotch with his history classes and Vault-Tec's projections, shied away from such topics. Even the "Holy Bible", which his father kept in his personal library, devoted several passages to these topics.

Of course, being aware of the existence of something was very different to actually experienced it first-hand.

"So… everyone out there is _psychopath?" _she asked dryly.

"No, don't get me wrong. There are… good people, people who still try to do the right thing, and who still possess ethics or a moral code."

"Have you ever been outside?"

"Yes."

"Have _I _ever been outside?"

"Alice…"

"Please, answer the question."

James looked away again, and then took a bite from the red apple still in his hand.

Alice had never had patience for sentimentality, and hated having to deal with people who favoured the emotional side of things —both her father and Amata constantly scolded her for it— however, she was well aware that his father was much easier to persuade if one appealed to his emotions.

"Dad, why don't you trust me?"

"It's not that I distrust you, dear. It's just… there are some things you better not known."

"Why? What kinds of things?" Alice questioned raising both eyebrows; her father just shook his head in response.

"Stop, please stop. I know what you're doing."

The girl bit her lower lip and stared at the floor, feeling slightly embarrassed.

No. This wasn't the time to give up. She wanted to know more; she needed to know more.

"What's 'Project Purity'?"

James nearly choked on a piece of apple. Regaining his composure, he crossed his arms above his chest and looked at her daughter with narrowed eyes.

"Where did you hear that?" he asked sternly.

Alice met her father's gaze, but didn't answer. It wasn't necessary; her father was a clever man, so he quickly deduced what had happened.

"Have you been on my computer? Did you read from my files? Alice, how could you?"

"I'm sorry. I just…"

"What you did is inexcusable. You'd no right to invade my privacy," interrupted James. His face, as always, remained impassive, but she'd learned to interpret the subtle changes in his voice pitch and body language. Her father was genuinely angry, but above all, he was disappointed.

For a second Alice, who didn't regret what she'd done, but the fact that she was caught, was overwhelmed by feelings of guilt.

"Alice, please, you need to understand that there are some things you better not know." James approached his daughter and held firmly by the shoulders firmly. "And you're grounded."

With those words, Dr Whitaker ended the conversation and retreated to his bedroom.

* * *

The day of the GOAT had finally arrived. With clammy hands, Alice put on her blue jumpsuit and hastily brushed her hair. Like most people, she liked to look presentable, but she never spent longer than necessary on her appearance; after the incident with the chewing gum, she'd decided to never let her hair grow beyond her earlobes.

She'd many questions for her father, but he was always reluctant to discuss anything relevant to the outside world. At least, thought Alice, he no longer denied its existence.

Did her father have been born there? If that was the case, when and why he decided to start living at the vault? How did he manage to get in? Did she have been born at the "Wasteland"? And what really happened to her mother?

Alice decided to leave her inquiries for another time and left the small apartment, closing front door behind her.

Upon entering the clinic she saw Stanley, the official vault mechanic. He was sitting behind a medical screen, and seemed to have lost all colour in his cheeks.

"Good morning, Mr Armstrong."

"A-ah, good morning, kiddo…"

Stanley's greeting was interrupted by a coughing fit. According to her father, during the past few months Stanley had begun to suffer from debilitating headaches, spasms and insomnia, although Alice suspected that his symptoms started much earlier.

Before Alice could ask Stanley about his health, Jonas walked through the front door, interrupting their conversation.

"Good morning, champ! Ready for the GOAT?" he asked. He was holding a medical clipboard with hands.

"No," she said, "to be honest, I'm a little nervous,"

"Well, don't be!" Jonas exclaimed, waving a hand effusively. "Seriously, there's nothing to worry about. The GOAT isn't _as bad_ as it looks, right Stanley?"

The old mechanic nodded, hinting a smile. He started coughing again, so he took out a small handkerchief from his pockets and covered his mouth with it.

"Well, I think you better go and say hello to your father, I'm sure he'll want to wish good luck," Jonas said, looking at Stanley out of the corner of his eyes.

"All right," she said, waving her right hand. "See you later, Jonas. Goodbye Mr Armstrong, I hope you get better soon."

_I wonder if he's still angry at me_, thought the girl, while walking to Dr Whitaker's office. She announced her presence by knocking weakly at the door frame. Her father looked up from his terminal monitor.

"Oh, good morning, honey, how are you? Have you got everything ready for the GOAT?"

The girl answered by shrugging her shoulders.

"Don't be so nervous. Everyone has to take the GOAT sooner or later and, until now, no one has got hurt because of it," James joked, winking an eye.

"But, what if fail it? I don't even know what sort of questions are going to be on the test. What if I don't end up on the engineering program?"

"Calm down, dear," the Dr interrupted when his daughter seem to begin to hyperventilate. He turned off the monitor of his terminal, walked up to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let me tell you a little secret: If you aren't happy with your results, you can always ask Mr Brotch to tweak them."

"That doesn't sound legal," declared Alice, raising an eyebrow, "but it's good to know."

James let out a little chuckle and went back to his desk.

"Well, that's it then. Hurry up or you'll miss the test!"

Alice turned on her ankles, but before she walked out of office, she asked, "Dad, I was wondering if Stanley… Mr Armstrong will recover, right?"

Her father glanced at her and smiled weakly.

"There's nothing to worry about, Alice. Mr Armstrong is in good hands. Now, you better hurry to the GOAT, you don't want to end up as a garbage collector, do you? If that happens, I'm sure your mother would return from the grave and berate me for it."

Alice laughed softly, trying not to think too much about Catherine, her mother —she'd never openly accept that, despite not having met her, there were times she missed her—; after saying goodbye to her father, she continued on her way to classroom, lost in thought.

The Vault wasn't perfect, that was obvious, but all was not lost; perhaps, when Amata became Overseer, she could do something to change the situation. Yes. Amata will became the new overseer, and then the two of them would work on improving things in Vault 101; after all, this was their home, the one they had and the only one they would have.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the shrill voice of Amata.

"Why can't you leave alone, Butch? Get away from me!"

Of course it was Butch; it was always the goddamn coward of Butch. No matter how many years passed, the bastard would never change.

She quickened her pace, fearing the worst.

Shortly before reaching the end of the hall, she stopped short.

Butch, Wally and Paul had cornered Amata outside the classroom. They surrounded her, just like predators. The petite girl was trying to push her way through the bullies, but they were much bigger than her, and outnumbered her.

"Amata, Amata, Amata," Butch repeated, mockingly, almost hissing, and bringing his face closer to the girl's. "Wouldn't you like to see a _tunnel snake_ up close? I think it's time to teach you what a real man is."

Alice put her arms at her sides and clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white. It was just unbelievable. Butch and his "Tunnel Snakes" were sexually harassing Amata; there was no other way to call it, and she refused to sugar-coat her words. The Tunnel Snakes always had a lot of braggarts and nothing more, but right now they seemed to be on the verge of sexually abusing Amata.

She couldn't allow this.

But, what she could do? While Butch wasn't a particularly big or muscular boy, and she was _almost_ certain that she could overpower him if the situation called for it —Alice was about four inches taller than him, about twenty pounds heavier, and neither of them was a trained fighter—, Butch still had an advantage over her by the mere fact of being a man; it was unfair, but such was the nature of biology.

Besides, Butch wasn't alone.

No. She couldn't leave Amata to her fate. She couldn't abandon her. She could never forgive herself if she let anything happen to her friend.

With a sour and unpleasant feeling rising in her throat, and almost apoplectic with rage, Alice approached towards those despicable men.

It took her a few seconds to find her voice.

"Leave her alone, DeLoria."

The three boys turned their gaze to her.

_Dammit, what did I get myself into?_

"Ah, looks like the nosebleed has come to defend her girlfriend. Maybe I'll also teach what a _real man _looks like, wouldn't you like that? I bet you would," said the boy, leaning against the wall with arms and legs crossed.

"Ha! You've to be kiddin' me, Butch," Wally interrupted. "I think I'm going to vomit."

Alice's face hardened.

Butch and Wally laughed. Paul smiled, but said nothing. Amata, meanwhile, took advantage of that moment and tried to get away from the possible scuffle, but Butch realized this and grabbed her roughly by the wrist.

"Where do think you're going?"

"Let me go, Butch!"

"And if I don't, what will you do?" mocked the boy.

"I'll tell my father!" The girl yelled, narrowing her eyes. "Do you think he's going let you harass me? Do you think your little group will get away with this?"

"And you think I'm afraid of your father? Stupid! Tunnel Snakes fear nothing!"

"Then you're a bigger idiot than I thought," Amata remarked.

Alice tried to approach her friend, but was stopped by Wally Mack muscular arm.

"Stop right there, pipsqueak! You better stay out of this, or we'll send you back to your father with some broken bones."

"Don't be jealous, pipsqueak. There's more than enough for you too," added Butch, his lips curving into a sneer.

"Don't you have anything better to do?"

"And why do you care? This is Tunnel Snake's business; but don't worry, freak, you'll have your turn as Butch said."

Alice smiled mischievously; an idea began to form in her mind.

"Do you really have to ask permission from Butch, Wally? I thought you were the leader of the Tunnel Snakes," Alice asked, innocently.

"I _am_ the leader, nosebleed," Mack snapped, holding Alice by the collar of her jumpsuit. "Don't give that shit. I don't follow orders from anyone, not even from the overseer."

"That's not what's being said in the hallways," Alice asserted. Wally wasn't convinced by her words, but at least he'd released her. Butch looked ready to pounce towards her and break her nose.

"Like I care! That's nothing but bullshit!"

But he did care. Wally Mack wasn't very good at hiding his feelings or keeping his mouth shut, so all the youngsters knew that, although Butch declared himself the leader of the Tunnel Snakes, and although the group decision-making rested on him, it was Wally who'd the last word.

It was Wally who was most insecure about his masculinity.

"You better shut up, nosebleed," Butch snapped.

"Don't you care that they said you're Butch's lapdog?" added Amata. "Because that's what they say, that you'll do anything that Butch tells you, _anything_."

Wally opened his eyes wide, and his cheeks acquired a reddish hue. For a moment, Alice thought he'd hit someone.

"That's enough bullshit! We're done here," Wally roared, beginning to advance towards the class room.

"_Done?_" Butch said, almost spitting the word. "And who says that? We're not done here."

"And who made you the boss?" Wally's lower lip trembled, rage evident on his face. "Fine, do whatever you want. Come on, Paul."

"Are you sure of this, uh, Wally? Butch?" Paul questioned, looking at Wally and then Butch, with confusion and indecision. Seeing that neither of them responded, he chose to follow Wally into the classroom.

"Don't think this is over, nosebleed. You'll pay for this." Butch's face was only two inches from Alice's, and she could smell the cigarette and alcohol on his breath, but she didn't filch. If the boy thought that she was scared of him, he was wrong.

Once the Tunnel Snakes left, Amata approached her friend. Her hands shook slightly, and small beads of sweat ran down her forehead.

"My God, for a moment I thought… they wouldn't be capable of that, would they?"

"Who knows what those three are capable of," Alice said, scratching nervously the back of her neck. "Were you really going to tell your father?"

"No, not really. You know very well that I hate to seek help from that man, and even if I did, that'll just get me into more trouble." Amata hugged herself and stared at Alice. "I don't understand why they can't leave me alone. Stupid Tunnel Snakes, the think they're tough, but they're nothing but cowards." The girl continued ranting, raising her hand in the air in frustration, and only pausing for breath. "Thanks for the help, but… what would you've done if they'd decided to take this further?"

"That doesn't matter. Amata, you know I'd never let anyone hurt you," replied Alice, as if It were the most natural thing in the world.

Blushing faintly, Amata laced her arm with her friend's, and walked her to the classroom, where future awaited them.

* * *

_I guess this is what they call "déjà-vu", _Alice thought, holding a wet cloth over her left eye. Her nose had finally ceased to bleed, but it was more than certain to swell. Every muscle in her body ached, and all she wanted was to retire to her room to rest, instead, she'd ended up in the clinic, waiting for her father to finish treating Butch's wounds. The fact that she'd been escorted by Officer Gomez made this entire situation more embarrassing. Why were they treating her like a criminal?

This wasn't the first time she was grateful for her six-feet-three of height and for her naturally chubby body. They gave her an edge during the fight with Butch.

The automatic door slid open, revealing a stoic James.

"I know what you're going to say."

"Oh yeah?" James asked, almost sarcastically. "And what I'll say, young lady?"

"You have to learn to pick your fights." she replied, trying _not to_ roll her eyes. That was one of the first lessons her father had taught her, along with the importance of forgiving other and to give a "second chance" to people. For Alice, the first was an important lesson, while the other two were nothing more than a bunch of _bullshit_. People like Butch DeLoria didn't deserve forgiveness, much less a second chance. Forgiveness was something earned.

"It's nice to know you remember that. Now," James sat in the chair next to his daughter, "I need you to explain me _exactly_ what happened."

"Isn't it obvious?" Alice snorted angrily. "It was Butch DeLoria. If you need more information, feel free to watch the security video."

"Yes, I know that already," James said sternly. "What I want to know is this: how did Butch DeLoria ended with a broken skull?"

"B-broken?" Alice covered her mouth with her free hand and went pale.

"Almost broken. Fortunately, he'll _only_ need five stitches. Alice, do you realize that you could have _killed him_?"

"I don't regret what I did," she said dryly, "but I do regret that the situation reached that point."

"Alice," James's face turned sombre, "the Supervisor is considering that you be tried as an adult."

"B-but why... no, that can't be. It's not fair!" yelled the girl, in a sudden burst of emotion.

"It may not be, but life isn't always 'fair', Alice." James sat beside her daughter and gave her right hand a squeeze, in an attempt to comfort her. "There are rules and laws that must be followed, and there's a fine line between self-defence and aggravated assault."

Alice ran a hand through her hair and plonked into her seat.

"He attacked me first," she said, struggling to contain her anger and frustration. "He attacked me. I was just defending myself."

"That's not what Butch says, or what the Overseer believes." James sighed wearily, placing both hands on his lap. Out of the corner her eye, Alice could see the red spots that now decorated his lab coat. "I believe you, I really think that he attacked you first but, the way you responded to his attack, qualifies as 'aggravated assault'."

"N-no... this can't… he lies, I swear he's lying," she whispered.

James nodded.

"Right now, a meticulous analysis of the security tapes is being conducted. Alice, I need you to tell me what happened, otherwise I can't help you."

Shivering, more in anger than fear, Alice told his father what had happened.

That evening, the girl was in the reactor level, helping Stanley Armstrong to carry some tools and heavy boxes containing spare parts —although she'd also helped him with the Pip-boys. The old mechanic began to feel ill, so he retired early. Finding herself alone at the reactor level, she decided to visit the shooting range before returning to the apartment; that's when Butch DeLoria appeared. Taken her by surprise, he slammed his fist into her face, breaking her nose. They struggled and, somehow, ended on the floor.

When Butch began to strangle her, Alice reached for the Stillson wrench that had fallen to the ground during the dispute, and hit him on the head with it.

Butch had been lucky her BBgun was out of her reach during the fight.

"What am I going to do?" She asked in a small voice.

"Relax, everything will be fine. I promise we'll fix this."

"What if we can't? What will happen to me then?"

"Then is probably that… you'd get sentenced to one or two years in prison. But I can assure you that I won't let that happen. No matter what happens, we'll find a solution."

Alice clung to the edge of her chair, in an attempt to calm her nerves and the anger that overwhelmed her. So the law would punish her for defending herself, for defending the people that were important to her.

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

Ignoring the itch that she was starting to feel around her eyes, Alice leaned her head on her father's shoulder and let him hold her.

* * *

**Autor's notes:**

We finally reached the end of this story arc. My intention with these two chapters wasn't just show a little more of life in the Vault, and mentality of Alice before leaving it, but also to develop some of the other residents. If there's something I've always hated, and is usually present in most novelizations, is the representation of the Vault as a utopian place where nothing goes wrong, and where human vices are simply unknown.

I hadn't planned for this chapter to be so long, but apparently the characters had a lot to say, and I like to take my writing slowly; on the other hand, I wanted to explore the relationship of Amata and Alice, and show that, despite having different temperaments and personalities, they're still good friends. Plus, I have a soft spot for Female friendships, and I feel they don't have enough representation in mainstream media, but I digress.


End file.
